


Fairground Feats

by sceawere



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Dating, Established Relationship, F/M, Fairgrounds, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceawere/pseuds/sceawere
Summary: Dex struggles with dating, but man can he yeet.-Dex and his girlfriend go to the fair, have deep emotional conversations, and win garish but adorable prizes.





	Fairground Feats

“You didn’t have to do this, Dex” you reminded him as you strolled under the glimmering lights together. Well, you strolled. Dex patrolled. The two of you, hand in hand, winding between the crowds of screeching kids and giggling teenagers.

The former zoomed around you, hopped up on the half-eaten bags of candy floss gripped in their sticky little hands. The latter seemed to roam in packs, oblivious of their own fluid borders, and you had to veer this way and that a few times as they hurried passed.

Neither were amusing your boyfriend much, and he oscillated between death stares, and heavy sighs. 

“I promised I would,” he replied, eyeing a particularly raucous crowd that caused you to guide him to the right once more. You tucked into his side, the grip on his hand increasing, and you moved your free hand up to grip his arm through his jacket.

“Down, boy” you half soothed, half teased, winking as he pulled his eyes back from over your shoulder. “And, uh…to be honest, I assumed you were just joking, or winding me up or…”

You finished it with a shrug as you slowed your pace.

“Why?” he stalled as you pushed up onto your toes, trying to peer up over the crowds. You lifted your hand up to grip his shoulder and push up onto the very extreme of your toes, gaining that extra inch that helped you spy the line for the Ferris wheel. Too long. Damn it.

“Because, this is so not you! When I mentioned the fair, I wasn’t honestly suggesting we come together,” you explained, and he watched carefully as you dropped your feet back to the ground, sliding your hand down his chest. It was your turn to question as you caught his considering gaze. “What?”

“What isn’t me?” he questioned, and you tilted your head.

“Special Agent Benjamin Poindexter, very serious Fed Man and notorious grumpy-old-guy-before-his-time is frowning in front of a very cheerful balloon stand,” you nodded towards the cloud of glittering mylar hovering above you, “because funfairs are not his thing.”

He followed your pointed gaze as it bore into a grinning monkey emoji inflatable. He let his head loll back a little, and his frown dissolved as he took a deep swallow. An acerbic smile grew on his face, and you licked at your lips, your own grin growing. You released the grip on his hand and slid your hand back up his chest to rest your palms over his shoulder. He crossed his arms, and you rested your chin against your knuckles as you waited for him to speak.

“Ok. Point taken. I just…”

“You were trying to be _normal_ again.” you droned, and he sighed, opening his mouth to protest when you cut him off. “I hate when you try to be _normal_ , Dex.”

“I wasn’t trying to be _normal,”_ he spat the words out as sarcastically as you had, “I was trying to make you happy. You deserve it.”

You took a big breath, and exhaled deeply, with a little hum in it.

“That’s adorable.” You nodded, smiling at his eye roll, and enjoying the grin that spread across his face as you pushed up onto your toes once more and lay a kiss onto his cheekbone. “And I truly appreciate the effort. But you know what else makes me happy? Eating Chinese food half naked in your apartment makes me happy. We could have done that!”

Dex flexed his jaw, still staring straight ahead as you grinned.

“We always do that. It’s not special.” He argued. You replied with a vague throat noise, beginning to bounce on your toes a little.

Trying to look cute was a mistake. Date night or no, the floaty skirt and ballet flats combo you were sporting in late Autumn/early Winter was a silly choice and you regretted it currently. Probably weren’t going to regret it later when Dex inevitably got bored of behaving and slipped his hand up the back of your thigh to warm you up, but…for now…regret.

“Well, I like it! And that makes it special to me, mister.” You defended, but his expression remained unchanged, even when he turned his head to stare you down. “I like it, Dex. I like that we’re not fussy. I don’t need fussy. Ok? I like that I don’t have to pretend to be all…fussy. I can just…be…around you. That’s enough for me. I know it’s enough for you. So why are we trying to do other people’s relationships? Hmm?”

He slid his gaze away, and you pinched his chin tilting it back.

“This is because of Zywicki’s stupid book report, isn’t it?” you probed. “Listen, just because he reads one bullshit newlywed try hard book and goes on about it at lunch, does not mean you suddenly have to go all Notebook on me, ok? I mean, I never actually paid attention to that movie, but I know its romantic stuff and I assume there are- regardless!

Listen, I also heard him talk about how you’re supposed to compromise and do nice things for each other and all of that. Ok? We do all that. We’re good. You do not need to prove yourself to me by doing things that make you unhappy. That’s not making this relationship better, babe. The whole surprise date, keep things fresh stuff…that’s right for them. That’s not us. We’re…eat Chinese food in the bath kind of people.”

“When the hell have we eaten- “

“We haven’t. We haven’t. It’s something to try maybe, alright? If we’re going to spice things up, why not start there, I ask?” you bent a brow, and he shook his head.

“I don’t want you to think I’m…not trying, or…I’m not… _good_ …at _this_ ” he crossed his arms again, adjusting his whole body, a physical manifestation of his discomfort with the topic at hand.

“Dex, I’m not going anywhere,” You insisted. “Nowhere. Unless the line for the Ferris wheel dwindles significantly, and then I’m out of here.”

He didn’t laugh, but his cheek did pull up a little, and you softened.

“I know you try. All the time. I don’t need grand displays of affection. I know every day you’re there that you love me. And I like that you don’t demand anything of me, you know? We understand each other. That’s us.”

He unfolded his arms, dropping them to shove his hands into his pockets, until he opened the palm closest to you at the last second. You stepped back, delving your grip into his, and folded your fingers together.

“You know what you could do though? To prove your unending affection?” you probed.

“You want the monkey?” he asked, staring straight ahead again, mask back in place.

“I’m seriously considering it. But it is a wise investment? I think perhaps not.” You zoned out, staring deep into the eyes of the cartoon monkey as it swayed back and forth above your heads. “Oh!”

You exclaimed as Dex started moving, pulling you along with him as he surged forward. You laughed as you saw the stand he was stalking towards, beaming as he turned with a grin to wink over his shoulder at you.

“NO! Benjamin, that is cheating,” you increased your pace, so you were beside him, pulling up to hold your palm against the side of his throat as he continued guiding you towards the shooting booth. You lowered your voice, “You’re a fucking sniper!”

“Yeah, well. These things are all rigged anyway. So, if anything, I’m evening up the odds” his grin was sinful, and you pushed your tongue into the corner of your lips, staring him down.

“No.” You insisted, the two of you at a smirking standoff. You stayed how you were, hung off his side, his arm delving around your waist, fingers gripping tight against your ribs. You gasped into his touch, rolling your body that important inch closer. “That.”

You dropped your eyes to across the way, and he followed, scoffing.

“How is that any different?”

“Because,” you unwrapped yourself from him, grabbing each of his hands in yours, and walked backwards to lead him towards the stand, “I’ve seen you shoot a hundred times, and while it certainly does do it for me, Sir- “

His grin quirked, and you turned to walk beside him once more.

“I want to see you chuck a bean bag at a cup. Now _that’s_ how you get the girl.” you joked.

“Aim is aim. This is easy.” He complained, and you hummed.

“I can throw a pretty good paper ball into the trash can – I’m not starting for the Lakers”.

“This is easy.” He repeated, more insistent.

“Well, firstly, get on with it then. Secondly, there’s a difference between pointing a gun in the right place and having the bullet follow the line-I know it’s not that easy and, listen, don’t give me that look! But you know, making your arm throw it in the right place, that’s a succession of skills, that I want to see you perform. So, perform for me, big boy” you teased, leaning against the support beam at the side of the stand.

Dex hovered in front of it, eyeing only you, with a wicked glint in his eye.

“I played baseball as a kid. Well.” He bragged, and you shrugged.

“Prove it.” you mouthed.

He dragged his eyes away from you, shouldering his jacket off. Your grin widened as you reached out to take it from him. He threw down a note from his pocket and nodded to the guy staffing the stand, who passed him the bags, and gave a quick run down of what each colour cone got him.

You rolled to rest your shoulder against the beam, eyes flicking between the display and your boyfriend.

He tested the weight in his hand. Surveyed the target. Took a quick breath.

And then he whipped his arm back and snapped it back across his body. The first target fell before you could whip your head towards it, and your brows flew up.

“Oh.” you breathed, about to make a comment, when the second cone fell. You snapped back to Dex, watching as he flung shot after shot, and then finally stepped back.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed, and he dissolved from the sure-fire expression he had into a softer, unsure expression. “That was incredible!”

You pushed away from the stand, jumping up into his arms. He chuckled, and you planted a big kiss on his cheekbone, your usual spot to adorn with your affection. He spun you around, hands rolling up and down your arms.

“Pick something out.” He instructed, breath fanning over your ear, your throat. You bent your neck just slightly, reluctant as you stepped forward to rest your palms against the counter and survey the options.

There were ridiculously oversized teddy bears hanging from the underside of the ceiling, sickly neon coloured hunks of fluff, and you debated which one to get. You lifted your free hand, the other still had Dex’s jacket looped around it, bunched up over your forearm, and pointed towards one in a particularly offensive shade. You hooked your finger over your smiling lips as the guy turned to fetch a stool and jumped up to mess with the ties keeping it in place.

You were so focused on watching him work with a tough knot, still marvelling at the scattered cones, that you didn’t feel Dex’s hand until it was already up under your skirt. He leaned his hip up against the side of the counter, his hand shaded by his jacket lumped up against your own hip and ghosted the pads of his fingers against the side of your thigh.

You licked at your lips, tongue pushing into the side of your teeth, and you refused to allow him the win of your gaze. His smirk grew in your periphery, spurred on by your defiance. His fingers trailed just a tad higher, and his thumb joined to grip over the span of your thigh.

You relented as the guy finally freed your prize, pushing away from the counter, and gripping Dex’s hand in yours. You tore it away from your thigh, shooting him a look as he brought his other hand over to lift his jacket. He stepped around to rest it over your shoulders as the man returned with your prize.

You had to hand the bear to Dex in order to shrug into his jacket properly, arms wiggling and waving in the too long sleeves.

“I love this jacket,” you gushed, gathering it up around you, the shearling lining soft to your body as the denim exterior scratched at your jaw.  “Oh, it’s so fluffy and it smells like you and I love it!”

He shook his head as you reached for the bear again, filing the sight of him holding the giant fluffy mess away in your mind, but his grin was locked onto his face as you re-joined hands. You tucked the bear up under your arm, snug against your side, and it stretched down the length of your body to bop against your knee as you walked.

“We didn’t go on the Ferris.” He said, and you hummed as he led you back to the car.

“Oh, no, I don’t really like them. I just wanted to smooch ya.” You broke into laughter, and he shook his head at you for the fifteenth time that night.

 

 


End file.
